As I was fooling about in the lower main cabin aboard my old raft, I bumped a shelf and somehow only the book pictured on the top of this page fell down. I reached down to pick it up and noticed it had fallen open to this page (the second photo pictured here). This struck me as odd because, though I had remembered having this book, I had forgotten that my dad had found it and sent it to me. I actually recognized his handwriting even before I read any of the words. Apparently I needed to be reminded of this treasure, and I'm glad that I was. Aside from the wonderful memories of my dad that its discovery brought, it is also one of the few very popular classics that I've never read..and I've enjoyed all the other books I've read by Robert Louis Stevenson (My favorite by him that I've read is "Travels With A Donkey" in the event anyone would ever wonder). I used to read from "Treasure Island" sometimes for Weasel and Butterfly at bedtime...they never took much of an interest in it, but it DID help them to fall asleep I think.
My love of classic literature is something that probably not too many people have known about me...aside from close personal friends, and family of course. Literature was really my first love--long before music--and the use of words is something that always came natural to me from a young age...unlike music (that's another story for another time, but I was far from a natural-born musician). Stumbling on to this book tonight reminded me just how much I used to read--and WHAT I used to read--before Weasel and Butterfly came into my life. I used to read many spiritual and theological works too, and a bit of philosophy. Somewhere in the archives below the captain's bed there are journals that list dozens of books I had read in years past. I remembered a co-worker named Shawn Gumbleton many years before who had accused me of only reading such books as an attempt to be a "literature snob." I'm not sure I ever fully convinced him that it really WAS just because I love the older writing styles that much more--the wit and humor of the classics is unrivaled in the last two centuries--in my opinion. For what it's worth. And there is my digression for this chapter.
One last digression as a note to myself: at some point I really need to journal about times working with Shawn...we had some great memories together, and he taught me lots of cool stuff about the internet underground at a time when it really was like the wild west. No more digressions tonight. I hope. That's my intention, anyway.
So I had decided that I need to read the classic that fell beneath my nose tonight, and considered that I need to spend more time with the classics in general. I really do--they brought me so much joy. Since November is just 'round the corner, and that's an emotional time for me (both the day my dad was brought into this world, and the day he left it, fall in the month of November), I have slated "Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde" for reading during that season.
Early on, after Weasel and Butterfly were born, I was quite busy of course...there really was little time or energy for reading of any sort, except the occasional board book at bed time. And by the time they had gotten old enough to be more independent, I was deep into making music again, and any free time I found was slotted for the writing and recording of music (and time on the Internet, of course, so that people actually KNEW I existed and was making music). On the rare occasion I'd make time to read, I found myself reading rock biographies and more recent books on space...specifically as it pertained to the possibility of multiple universes, and the role of dark matter/dark energy in our existence. The rock biographies helped me understand different perspectives on making it in the music business (my interest often centered upon the psychological impacts of the "rock star" lifestyle, as well as the struggles of the creative process itself); and the space books often became inspiration for songs I would write and record.
So as I continued to sift through these memories here in the kitchen of My Blue Heaven, I realized that the Jekyll & Hyde book comes 'round full circle...over the years as a musician I had really become a Jekyll & Hyde myself--I had created the alter ego KeV Atomic that most people on the internet know me by. He is me--and not me--at the same time; the two are ever intertwined. Both Kevin and KeV have positive and negative traits, as do all people, I believe. Balance became a greater issue for me over time, as it continues to be even as I write this. Where does one end, and the other begin...or is this some difficult thing for the mind to grasp, like comprehending the Holy Trinity? And no, in no way am I attempting to compare myself to the Holy Trinity--that is most certainly not my intention, nor would it ever be.
What generally happened, I think, is that I was Kevin when I was with my kids, and I was KeV Atomic when I was writing, recording, or making myself known online. But the lines were sometimes blurred. Sometimes Kevin would show up to Cub Scout meetings in nail polish and makeup--which is much more of a KeV type thing to do (Weasel was a Cub Scout, and somehow I got chosen to be the den leader for a time). And there were times that KeV was online promoting his music, but Kevin would take over and start tweeting about Weasel and Butterfly or "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" or any number of domestic, non-music-related things. What became sort of a balance for me was really a marriage of two different pendulums--always in motion, and sometimes synchronized. I imagine the possibility of two pendulums (in motion, of course) intersecting one another at perfect right angles. I'm not sure if that's possible in this universe, but that seems a way to try to explain it.
When Weasel and Butterfly moved away on Star Wars Day of 2014, and I was left alone aboard my old raft, I was also left with decisions I could make. The makeshift balance between Kevin and KeV Atomic that got us by for a few years wasn't going to work anymore. I knew that much. Simply put, I was given the opportunity, for the first time since Weasel and Butterfly were born, to just be KeV Atomic pretty much all the time. I could write, record, and make new definitions for "absurdity" pretty much any time I wanted (except when I was at work). That was my theory, at any rate. And it made sense to me. Heck, I could even go on tour now if I wanted to...just so many choices.
And I did just that for a while--but only a little while (I didn't actually tour, but I made the right contacts and rehearsed so that I COULD tour whenever I was ready for that adventure, as I surely would be). Reality has a way of knocking on your door even when you have your "No Soliciting" sign prominently displayed, though, and melancholy eventually set in. I knew how much I would miss Weasel and Butterfly, I knew what a tremendous challenge it would be to restructure my life...but I didn't suspect for a second that KeV Atomic wouldn't be able to get me through this. He is a super hero, of sorts, you know--at least in my mind. Surely he could do it, and surely he would. But he didn't, and he couldn't. For the first time since I brought KeV Atomic into existence, I realized he wasn't all-powerful, and wasn't the answer to everything. Even HE has his limitations, and I was living in a season that limited his strength and energy. I lost my passion to write and record songs, I lost my desire for my music to be known on the Internet--not entirely, but mostly. This didn't happen overnight, of course--it was a process, as all meaningful things in life are. A gradual slide, slow and silent--but downward nevertheless.
I filled a lot of the void with social networking. I found that Kevin could awaken KeV Atomic that way...as you know, no one can brighten another's day quite like KeV Atomic! There was a rejuvenating element to it for sure, but it was only a postponement of the inevitable; I would eventually have to confront my own melancholy--Kevin's melancholy--and though KeV could help others with theirs, he was incapable of helping me with mine. That reminds me of how Nostradamus was able to save many lives (possibly thousands) from the plague, but he lost his own wife and children to it. True story. He was not just a visionary, he was a prominent doctor in his day. Perhaps he was a Jekyll & Hyde too? Did I just digress again? I'm sorry.
I didn't set out on this chapter with the intention of explaining all this, but it feels good to me that I did. I remember my mother telling me soon after Weasel and Butterfly moved away that I'd have to experience something very similar to a grieving process--and I believed her. But I never really confronted it--I guess I got sidetracked. She is a wise woman. So wise, in fact, that she'd never admit to it (Another digression--sorry!). I feel in my heart that this journal is maybe the beginning of really coming to terms with all this. I shall choose to believe so, in any case.
My love of classic literature is something that probably not too many people have known about me...aside from close personal friends, and family of course. Literature was really my first love--long before music--and the use of words is something that always came natural to me from a young age...unlike music (that's another story for another time, but I was far from a natural-born musician). Stumbling on to this book tonight reminded me just how much I used to read--and WHAT I used to read--before Weasel and Butterfly came into my life. I used to read many spiritual and theological works too, and a bit of philosophy. Somewhere in the archives below the captain's bed there are journals that list dozens of books I had read in years past. I remembered a co-worker named Shawn Gumbleton many years before who had accused me of only reading such books as an attempt to be a "literature snob." I'm not sure I ever fully convinced him that it really WAS just because I love the older writing styles that much more--the wit and humor of the classics is unrivaled in the last two centuries--in my opinion. For what it's worth. And there is my digression for this chapter.
One last digression as a note to myself: at some point I really need to journal about times working with Shawn...we had some great memories together, and he taught me lots of cool stuff about the internet underground at a time when it really was like the wild west. No more digressions tonight. I hope. That's my intention, anyway.
So I had decided that I need to read the classic that fell beneath my nose tonight, and considered that I need to spend more time with the classics in general. I really do--they brought me so much joy. Since November is just 'round the corner, and that's an emotional time for me (both the day my dad was brought into this world, and the day he left it, fall in the month of November), I have slated "Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde" for reading during that season.
Early on, after Weasel and Butterfly were born, I was quite busy of course...there really was little time or energy for reading of any sort, except the occasional board book at bed time. And by the time they had gotten old enough to be more independent, I was deep into making music again, and any free time I found was slotted for the writing and recording of music (and time on the Internet, of course, so that people actually KNEW I existed and was making music). On the rare occasion I'd make time to read, I found myself reading rock biographies and more recent books on space...specifically as it pertained to the possibility of multiple universes, and the role of dark matter/dark energy in our existence. The rock biographies helped me understand different perspectives on making it in the music business (my interest often centered upon the psychological impacts of the "rock star" lifestyle, as well as the struggles of the creative process itself); and the space books often became inspiration for songs I would write and record.
So as I continued to sift through these memories here in the kitchen of My Blue Heaven, I realized that the Jekyll & Hyde book comes 'round full circle...over the years as a musician I had really become a Jekyll & Hyde myself--I had created the alter ego KeV Atomic that most people on the internet know me by. He is me--and not me--at the same time; the two are ever intertwined. Both Kevin and KeV have positive and negative traits, as do all people, I believe. Balance became a greater issue for me over time, as it continues to be even as I write this. Where does one end, and the other begin...or is this some difficult thing for the mind to grasp, like comprehending the Holy Trinity? And no, in no way am I attempting to compare myself to the Holy Trinity--that is most certainly not my intention, nor would it ever be.
What generally happened, I think, is that I was Kevin when I was with my kids, and I was KeV Atomic when I was writing, recording, or making myself known online. But the lines were sometimes blurred. Sometimes Kevin would show up to Cub Scout meetings in nail polish and makeup--which is much more of a KeV type thing to do (Weasel was a Cub Scout, and somehow I got chosen to be the den leader for a time). And there were times that KeV was online promoting his music, but Kevin would take over and start tweeting about Weasel and Butterfly or "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" or any number of domestic, non-music-related things. What became sort of a balance for me was really a marriage of two different pendulums--always in motion, and sometimes synchronized. I imagine the possibility of two pendulums (in motion, of course) intersecting one another at perfect right angles. I'm not sure if that's possible in this universe, but that seems a way to try to explain it.
When Weasel and Butterfly moved away on Star Wars Day of 2014, and I was left alone aboard my old raft, I was also left with decisions I could make. The makeshift balance between Kevin and KeV Atomic that got us by for a few years wasn't going to work anymore. I knew that much. Simply put, I was given the opportunity, for the first time since Weasel and Butterfly were born, to just be KeV Atomic pretty much all the time. I could write, record, and make new definitions for "absurdity" pretty much any time I wanted (except when I was at work). That was my theory, at any rate. And it made sense to me. Heck, I could even go on tour now if I wanted to...just so many choices.
And I did just that for a while--but only a little while (I didn't actually tour, but I made the right contacts and rehearsed so that I COULD tour whenever I was ready for that adventure, as I surely would be). Reality has a way of knocking on your door even when you have your "No Soliciting" sign prominently displayed, though, and melancholy eventually set in. I knew how much I would miss Weasel and Butterfly, I knew what a tremendous challenge it would be to restructure my life...but I didn't suspect for a second that KeV Atomic wouldn't be able to get me through this. He is a super hero, of sorts, you know--at least in my mind. Surely he could do it, and surely he would. But he didn't, and he couldn't. For the first time since I brought KeV Atomic into existence, I realized he wasn't all-powerful, and wasn't the answer to everything. Even HE has his limitations, and I was living in a season that limited his strength and energy. I lost my passion to write and record songs, I lost my desire for my music to be known on the Internet--not entirely, but mostly. This didn't happen overnight, of course--it was a process, as all meaningful things in life are. A gradual slide, slow and silent--but downward nevertheless.
I filled a lot of the void with social networking. I found that Kevin could awaken KeV Atomic that way...as you know, no one can brighten another's day quite like KeV Atomic! There was a rejuvenating element to it for sure, but it was only a postponement of the inevitable; I would eventually have to confront my own melancholy--Kevin's melancholy--and though KeV could help others with theirs, he was incapable of helping me with mine. That reminds me of how Nostradamus was able to save many lives (possibly thousands) from the plague, but he lost his own wife and children to it. True story. He was not just a visionary, he was a prominent doctor in his day. Perhaps he was a Jekyll & Hyde too? Did I just digress again? I'm sorry.
I didn't set out on this chapter with the intention of explaining all this, but it feels good to me that I did. I remember my mother telling me soon after Weasel and Butterfly moved away that I'd have to experience something very similar to a grieving process--and I believed her. But I never really confronted it--I guess I got sidetracked. She is a wise woman. So wise, in fact, that she'd never admit to it (Another digression--sorry!). I feel in my heart that this journal is maybe the beginning of really coming to terms with all this. I shall choose to believe so, in any case.